With his vitality condensed into a pillar, Xiangzi felt his strength surge.

One stormy night, under a sky heavy with dark clouds, he sneaked into the courtyard to test his power. A single kick against a thigh-thick locust tree snapped it clean in half.

Xiangzi froze in shock.

Thankfully, the raging wind and rain had toppled several trees that night, covering his tracks.

From then on, he swore off testing his leg strength on trees.

Wealth shouldn’t be flaunted. The same went for martial prowess.

If word got out, who knew if envy might breed malice?

One can never be too cautious.

Especially since South City buzzed with rumors that Fat Master from Ma Liu’s yard, humiliated by Xiangzi, had put a thirty-silver-dollar bounty on his leg.

Though a month had passed, Xiangzi stayed vigilant, training stances in the morning, fists and feet in the afternoon, never straying from Harmony Rickshaw Yard.

His stance work had reached minor mastery, and his Thunder-Rushing Fist and Wind-Chasing Kick were coming along:

[Thunder-Rushing Fist (Incomplete)]

[Progress: 16/100 (Minor Mastery)]

[Wind-Chasing Kick (Incomplete)]

[Progress: 72/100 (Minor Mastery)]

Perhaps his natural aptitude for pulling rickshaws—a beast of burden’s physique—made his legwork progress faster than his fists.

At minor mastery, his Wind-Chasing Kick

could unleash three kicks in midair, each splintering a three-inch-thick board.

In his past life, he’d be a Super Saiyan.

But these were incomplete, common techniques, capped at minor mastery. Advancing further required true skills from a martial hall.

Yet, in this world, martial halls had sky-high barriers.

Take Baolin Martial Hall: Uncle Jie said even an unnamed disciple slot cost nearly two hundred silver dollars.

Even so, Forty-Nine City’s youths flocked to them.

Without a referral, though, even with money, you couldn’t cross their threshold.

Wasn’t Uncle Jie proof? He’d broken the vitality barrier young but was repeatedly turned away, still lingering outside ninth-rank at his age.

It was Thursday, with no afternoon plans. By rule, guards had free time.

Xiangzi carefully tied thirty silver dollars into a cloth sack, tucked it into his coarse jacket’s lining, and left the east building.

He needed to visit the shop Liu Tang recommended and buy a dose of vitality broth to test its effects.

Just outside the east building’s gate, a familiar face swaggered up.

“Well, well, Xiangzi! Finally caught you!” Wen San, in a long gown with a towel over his shoulder, grinned broadly.

“Brother San, what’s got you so chipper?” Xiangzi clasped his fists.

That “Brother San” sent a thrill through Wen San. He slung an arm around Xiangzi’s shoulder. “Come on! Your brother’s treating you to drinks at a tavern!”

He shook his pocket, silver dollars jingling.

Xiangzi paused, then smiled. “Can’t today, Brother San. Got business to handle for Master Tang.”

Wen San panicked, glancing around, urging, “Just a couple of cups! Won’t take long!”

Outside the east building was the second-class pullers’ yard.

As they spoke, a few familiar pullers passed by, spotting Xiangzi and clasping fists, calling out “Master Xiang” nonstop.

Since Xiangzi moved from the second-class yard to the east building, the pullers had waited for him to crash and burn.

A puller who hasn’t awakened vitality, favored by Fourth Master—could he last in the east building’s den of dragons?

Those guards were all vitality barrier breakers!

Yet a month later, no jokes materialized.

Instead, Xiangzi, the big fool, had firmly planted his feet in the east building.

Though no word of him awakening vitality, even the haughtiest guards gave him thumbs-up.

Rumor was, even Master Tang sparred with him.

Master Tang, of all people?

The only ranked martial artist in Harmony!

Xiangzi could trade blows with him?

His reputation soared in the second-class yard.

Wen San, especially, basked in it.

Whenever Xiangzi came up, he bragged, “Xiangzi calls me Brother San!”

That, of course, drew plenty of jeers.

Some scoffed, “You, Wen San? A five-dollar-a-month puller daring to act big before Master Xiang?”

Wen San fumed but couldn’t argue back, so he lingered by the east building’s gate after work each day.

Today, he’d finally caught Xiangzi.

Time to show off.

But truth be told, Wen San was nervous.

His bond with Xiangzi was thin. Now that Xiangzi thrived in the east building, trusted by Fourth Master and called “Master Xiang,” what if he brushed him off?

The second-class pullers nearby watched, eager for a spectacle.

Wen San’s anxiety grew. Drooping his eyelids, he muttered, “Xiangzi… give your brother some face.”

Seeing Wen San’s pleading look and the pullers’ expressions, Xiangzi guessed their thoughts.

After a moment, he laughed freely, clasping his fists. “Since Brother San invites, we’ll have a proper gathering.”

Wen San was a braggart and a bit slippery, but his heart wasn’t bad.

When Xiangzi first crossed over, Wen San’s small acts of help had been real.

At those words, Wen San beamed, his eyes slanting at the pullers, neck craned skyward.

See that? The east building’s Master Xiang calls me Brother San!

Grinning smugly, he led Xiangzi out.

But before reaching the teahouse, Xiangzi stopped, smiling. “Brother San, really sorry this time. Master Tang’s business is urgent. We’ll drink properly next time!”

Using Master Tang’s name, Wen San, though reckless, wasn’t dumb. He got the hint.

His face flushed, and he chuckled awkwardly. “Fine, Xiangzi, I owe you one!”

He knew Xiangzi had given him face earlier.

Xiangzi smiled, patting his shoulder. “Brother San, don’t say that. Without your help back then, I’d have struggled to stand in the yard.”

Wen San froze, looking up. Xiangzi’s earnest words held no jest.

Only then did he realize—this big fool truly remembered those small favors.

Wen San’s eyes warmed, but before he could speak, Xiangzi said, “If anything comes up, Brother San, come find me in the east building.”

Wen San blinked, then nodded firmly. “Your Brother San’s gotta step up too. One day, I’ll break this damn vitality barrier and join you as a guard!”

“Brother San, it’s a deal!”

“Your brother’s word is iron!”

Xiangzi smiled, said no more, and turned to leave.

Watching his back, Wen San sniffled, his heart a tangle of emotions.

In all his years, no one had ever taken him so seriously.